slow down

All posts tagged slow down

A REBLOG fm Elephantpress / How I feel most of the Time / LOVE IT – It’s OK

Published November 2, 2015 by beachboxer

Couldn’t See a REBLOG function, but HAD to copy and bring here. All my #CPTSD and #PTSD friends will Identify, Actually Anyone who has suffered and survived Anxiety, Depression – even just being Overwhelmed in day to day life. It is OK. Just Breathe – and for Heavens sake – Don’t beat yourself up! Love jj

When All You Can Do Is Breathe.
Stacy PorterVia Stacy Porter on Oct 29, 2015

Life is a journey full of ups and downs. The path is windy and confusing. There are too many choices or not enough.

I once heard, “If you want to make God laugh, make plans.”

All you can do is breathe.

There was a single moment, so small that I wonder if it really happened at all, when I thought I had everything figured out. There was stillness and confidence, love and light, peace and prosperity. It wasn’t just contentment and what was happening, but excitement and honest anticipation of what I could see unfolding in front of me.

But, all you have to do is blink and it could all be gone.

All you can do is breathe.

Now there is only uncertainty and questions, gossip and half-truths that seem like lies because the energy behind them is lacking and forced, out of one’s own desires to forget and heal, but not forgive and be honest.
There are so many questions that can never be answered and that forces me to look at life in a new light, from a whole new perspective. Instead of loving the unknown and waiting for plot twists in my own story, I am surrounded by resentment and am lost at what to do. How can I help? How can I serve? How can I be there for you when I’m not sure how to be there for myself.

All you can do is breathe.

Some people are moving on with their lives. Some people never cared. Some people will just stay quiet, because none of us are sure what the right thing to do is. We are lost, spiraling out of control, and wishing for some solid ground to stand on, but the earth shook so hard that nothing is upright, nothing is straight, and nothing is forthcoming. Instead we must push through our own foggy road, reaching out our arms with every step we take, afraid that we’ll be the next to fall over the edge.

All you can do is breathe.

When all you can do is breathe, it’s hard to see beyond what we think is there. We get lost in ideas and fears, images and daydreams that can lead us down a darker rabbit hole than we intended. When we’re searching for answers, but find nothing but more questions, it’s easy to feel resigned and helpless, lost and alone.

Sometimes all I want to do is wrap myself up in a mountain of blankets and let the sound of the rain outside my window lull me into sweeter dreams and take me to worlds far better than this one.

But even my dreams aren’t safe sometimes.

Sometimes my dreams take me places that scare me more than what I was leaving behind.

But, when all we can do is breathe, all we can really do is keep living.





It’s all the same. It’s a constant struggle to pull clean air into our lungs when we feel like we’ve been pushed under water and can’t figure out which way is up. The waves are too strong, yanking us around in the sea, holding us down from the light we so desperately want to reach.

But when all we can do is breathe, that air we inhale into our lungs will eventually be what lifts us up out of the water. It will be what pulls us up to the surface so we can break through the water and finally let the sun kiss our skin. It will be what attracts us to what we need, who we need. It will be what reminds us that life is change and that all we can really do is put one foot in front of the other and breathe.

There is no right or wrong.

There is no up or down.

There is only light and that light will flush out the dark if we let it.

We just need to breathe.





What the Dying Want us to Know about LIVING! An article by Alexandra Rosas – I will learn to reblog soon

Published September 3, 2013 by beachboxer



Death teaches us not to rush past the things we’ll wish we had more of at the very end of life

by Alexandra RosasSunday, August 25, 2013

Twenty-five years ago, I held my grandmother’s hand as she passed away. Two and half weeks ago, it was my mother’s hand that I held as she left our world.

I was there for the last days of life with both my mother and grandmother, and in our time together, they spoke of things with a sadness and urgency that they never had before.

There’s an old photo I have of my mother, which I’ve always loved. In it, she’s a young, sharply dressed working woman in South America, and you can feel the determination in her stride. I showed her this photo just a few weeks ago, and you could’ve heard the pride in my voice as I asked if she remembered where she was going on the day it was taken.

“I have always hated that picture,” she said, which startled me. “I was always in a hurry. Hurrying. Always. For what?” She took a deep breath, and gently said it one more time, “Always in a hurry ….”

What left me astonished and teary-eyed was not the surprise of her hating the picture, but that these words were exactlythe ones my grandmother had spoken to me on the morning of her own passing. I had been sitting vigil at her bedside and she was growing weaker with each day in the hospital. Stroking her hand, I spoke softly to her, “Abuela. Abuela, do you hear me? Remember when you would take us to the grocery store across the street from our house at the start of every summer, and you began our first day of vacation with a popsicle?”

Smiling, with her eyes still closed, she quietly answered, “I would tell you all to hurry, make your flavor choices, and to hurry. There was much to do. I would let you take your time choosing now, if I could. Things could have waited.”

What the dying want us to do — and wish for us to know — is to regard our lives as precious moments making up our days. They want us to focus less on the big picture of building a large body of evidence that proves our accomplishments, and more on the true wonders in our life — the kind where we find unexpected beauty that will be remembered with a wistful smile.

Like walking with your child alongside you, going somewhere without purpose. Or waiting patiently while five- and six-year-old children choose, change their minds, choose, and then change their minds again, about the root-beer-flavored or the banana-flavored popsicles.

My mother and grandmother were telling me loud and clear that as we live our lives, we have to stop running and chasing what we think leads to happiness, and slow down before we rush past the very thing we’ll wish we had more of at the very last hours of our days.

It’s not too late to make sweet memories of children or grandchildren skipping alongside us, of us just being and not doing, of grateful children looking up to us smiling with orange-stained mouths, yelling excitedly, “Thank you for waiting for me until I picked my flavor, Grandma! I didn’t know if I wanted the green or the orange!”

After hearing these words — not once, but twice — from loved ones who know everything they are about to leave behind, I know this is something I’ll be working on to change.

And I’m forever grateful for the second chance.